The Talk
by FreeSmiles
Summary: Harry and James have The Talk.


Harry stood outside James' room, rubbing his neck. He hadn't thought this day would come, or at least not so _soon_. Merlin, he must have been getting old.

He hoped that he would walk in there, start the conversation, but be interupted by James, who clearly knew the facts of life. He had to. No one went to boarding school without finding out a thing or two -- Harry knew from experience.

Experience.

That was all that worried Harry. That was all that worried Ginny. That was the reason Ginny had marched Harry to James' door, with the command to tell him about the facts of life (but mostly about loving and protecting women). He'd debated with her in their room; he would have much rather spoken to Lily about it all.

Ginny must have known that the conversation would have sounded a bit like: "Boys are bad. They only want one thing from you, and when they have it, they'll never speak to you again. Stay away from them. They are trouble. I'll kill whoever touches you."

Damn.

Harry took a deep breath, hands on hips, and finally raised a hand to knock. He stopped breathing as he waited for his son to answer, smiling when the door cracked open.

"I said you could come in," James grumbled, opening the door and moving back to his bed. He grabbed a copy of -- _oh no_ -- but... Harry laughed to himself. _Quidditch Magazine_.

Of course his son wasn't looking at _Playwizard_. Of course, he thought as his eyes darted around the bed, just to see if anything was peeking out.

All clear.

James raised his eyebrows. "Did you need something, Dad?"

Harry nodded and grabbed the chair sitting as his desk. "Yeah, James... Mum sent me in here to talk to you."

His son stared at him expectantly, and Harry felt like an idiot. How did he even start this conversation? _Just take the plunge_, Ginny's voice told him.

"Are you having sex?"

James jumped about a mile in the air. "What?" He cried, eyes wide.

"I mean, are you -- do you -- do you have --"

"No, I -- no, of course -- what --"

Harry stopped talking and James followed suit, the two looking anywhere but each other. Plunge, yeah. Thanks, Gin.

Taking a deep breath, Harry leaned over and placed his elbows on his knees. "James, your mum and I..." No, he needed a different tactic. "Boys have needs."

James stared at him in horror, face frozen. For a moment Harry wondered if he would puke. Actually, Harry rather felt like puking himself.

"Your mum and I aren't stupid. Me especially. I know what it's like to be a man and have... needs. To... want sex." He closed his eyes. "Things... happen at boarding school. But Mum and I... we want to let you know how we feel."

He could hear Ginny's voice in his head. _Eyes open, Harry. How else will he take you seriously? Would a terrorist take your interrogation seriously if you closed your eyes?_

Harry fixed his gaze on James, who stared right back, seemingly unable to stop. He still had a deer-in-the-headlights look.

"Be safe. Always use protection. Mum has a big book of spells --" quick breath "--that you can look at. Muggle protection might be good as well. Those are called--"

"Condoms?"

Harry's eyes widened and James' widened even more, if possible. He seemed surprised that he'd even spoken.

"Er -- yes -- how -- when --"

"Hogwarts gives them to us! The new headmaster!" James rushed out. "We had this big thing about it! A class! A seminar! And they handed them out to us! And showed us how to use them!" James flushed.

Clearing his throat, Harry nodded. Well, one job taken care of. By... Hogwarts. Times had changed, apparently.

"Right. Well... Mum also wants me to tell you about... women. No," Harry corrected himself, "_I _want to tell you about women." This subject he could handle. "Women make the world go round, James. They cook and they clean and they're smarter than you or I will ever dream of being. You always, _always_ treat women with respect. You _never_ lay a hand on a woman."

James looked at him and nodded. Harry felt a weight lift off of his chest; this was perhaps the most important part of the conversation. Only a bit more to go.

"And, James... if you _are_... that is to say if, right now at school, you're--"

"Dad, I'm not -- I haven't -- I'm not --"

"I'm not saying you are!" Harry intervened, now feeling almost amused at the look on his son's face. "But you're going to want to." He cut off James' protests. "No, James, I was your age once and you will want to. Mum knows it, too."

James' face flushed and Harry had a feeling that Ginny's talk with him wouldn't go nearly as well as this one was going. And this one wasn't going at all, really.

"Mum and I want you to know -- and James, if you take nothing else from me in your lifetime, take this with you, it's all I want you to remember -- there will be girls who want to... well, they want to. But -- and listen closely, James -- when a woman says to stop, or tells you no, or in any way indicates that... she doesn't want to... well, that she doesn't want to, you stop."

James gave him a look.

"It sounds stupid, James, but _stop_. You won't want to, but you have to. Always, _always_ respect women. Always, James. We wouldn't be here without them."

James nodded and Harry supposed that the seriousness of his tone did him in. The two sat in silence for a few moments, and as James went back to his magazine, Harry was tempted to call it a night. They talked about it. They got through nearly all of Ginny's required topics. The last one wasn't important.

He wouldn't wait no matter what they said.

But as Harry began to rise from the chair, he heard her. Again. _If you don't tell your son that we want him to wait before having sex, you will be demonstrating how to wait. For a long time. _

"James," Harry said, sighing. "Having sex is... it's _more_ than just having sex. It's about love. It's about being with someone you love and caring about someone you love." He looked into James' eyes. "It's the closest you can ever be to someone. You will _always_ carry that person with you."

Harry took a deep breath and continued. "Mum and I... we would like you to wait. _Wait_ before... connecting yourself with someone for eternity. Mum wants you to wait until marriage." He paused. "I'm not that dumb. I know what it's like to be young and horny and I know what it's like to hate cold showers."

At this, Harry felt _his_ face flush along with his son's. Did he just say that?

"But be _careful_. Wait until you're ready. Just... wait," he finished lamely.

The two were silent for several moments and Harry was sure the conversation was over. Just as he began to rise, James' small voice asked, "Did you and Mum..."

Harry flushed. He should have been expecting this. He should have known this was coming.

Ginny had not warned him about these questions.

"Did you and Mum..." James repeated, eyes focused on his bedspread, "wait?"

Harry paused on the edge of the chair, mouth opening and closing. Did he tell his son the truth? Did he describe the circumstances? Was he supposed to explain that it was _different_ for them, that he hadn't known if he would ever return to Hogwarts, that he thought it was the last time he'd ever see his girlfriend, that he was headed to _war_?

Was he to explain that after the war it was too much of a celebration to even _consider_ waiting? How much did James need to know? Where was the line?

Why didn't Ginny prepare him for this?

"Mum and I..." Harry began and sighed. "We were careful," he finally said, feeling that the statement was safe enough. "We waited to have you and Al and Lily. We were careful."

James nodded, still not looking at Harry, and suddenly Harry felt his stomach knot.

"James, have you... I mean, did you already..."

"What? No, I -- I already told you -- no, I didn't -- why would you --"

"Okay," Harry cut in loudly, stopping them both from their flounderings. The tension in the room was still thick and Harry was sure that the conversation had to end. Soon.

Right then, preferably.

Nodding, he reached out and clapped James on the shoulder. James looked up at him, cheeks still bearing a rosy hue. Harry smiled.

"I'm not accusing you of anything, James. Mum wanted me to talk with you. Her and I... we understand how it feels." James quickly looked down at the bed again and Harry felt warmth in his heart for his son. His first born.

He was growing up so quickly.

Harry moved toward the door, unable to resist glancing back at James, who had already pulled out his magazine again. But although his eyes were focused on the page, Harry thought he still looked a bit too stiff for comfort.

He opened the door, paused, and looked back once more. "James?" he called softly, waiting until his son looked up at him.

Harry smiled. "I love you."

James didn't look at him, merely nodded, but as Harry went to close the door, he heard it.

"Love you too, Dad."

Still smiling, Harry shut the door with a soft snap and moved to his office, partly to avoid his wife, partly to reflect on the conversation, but mostly to drink down the lump in his throat. James was growing up.

Where did the time go?


End file.
